


love has a quiet voice

by glowinghorizons



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 19:02:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3260933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/glowinghorizons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Florist!Killian AU. Killian is a florist who keeps to himself, and finds himself drawn to Emma Swan, who orders flowers from him. Based on Christina Perri's music video for "The Words". Originally posted on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love has a quiet voice

**Author's Note:**

> This AU was begging to be written after Christina's video came out. The title for this fic also comes from that song. I don't own those lyrics, or any visual similarities between this fic and her video.

He sees her one day when he’s making a delivery, and he’s embarrassed to admit that he nearly double takes when he walks past her as she’s browsing, picking up random blooms and putting them back.

While he’s at the counter, he tries desperately to ignore Granny’s pointed stares as he gives her the arrangements he’s put together for two special orders, but knows it’s useless, as she keeps talking loudly about what a beautiful job he always does, and how anyone would be so lucky to have someone like him around the house.

He’s sure he’s blushing, but doesn’t have time to be embarrassed, because when he turns around, the blonde woman is gone, and he’s surprised at how quick his heart sinks.

/////

He lives out in the country, just north of the railroad tracks, and it wouldn’t take a genius to see that he’s lonely. His days are the same. He spends a lot of his time in the greenhouse, a ramshackle cottage built on the edge of his property that, once upon a time, his grandfather had built for his grandmother, who loved to cultivate flowers. She loved exotic plants, and did her best to dispel any and all rumors that tropical plants couldn’t grow in this environment.

 His parents inherited the property after that, and soon it fell to him to take over the family business. His grandparents were long gone now, and so were his parents, but he felt the need to keep their business a success deep in his bones. 

He lives in the small cottage alone, eats alone, and falls asleep alone. He’s far past bringing random girls back home. If he’s honest, he’s been ready to settle down for a long time now, but he’s never found the right person. He’s a bit shy, and isn’t one to share his personal life with just everyone, and one night stands usually ended up not satisfying to either person involved, so he tended to stay away from them entirely.

 He wonders if his loneliness has gotten worse since he first saw the mysterious blonde woman in Granny’s shop, but he doesn’t know how that could be possible. (He’s only seen her _one time_ , he tells himself, she can’t possibly have left this much of an impression on him)

 (He knows he’s lying to himself when he dreams about her for two nights straight – all blonde curls and enticing green eyes and he is _so screwed_ )

////// 

He’s halfway through an order of bouquets for a wedding that’s happening in two weeks when he hears someone knock on the door of the greenhouse. His brow furrows, because no one comes here, _no one even knows this place is here_.

“Hello?” A voice calls, and before he even sees her he feels like all the hairs on the back of his neck are standing up because he’s heard this voice in his dreams so many times, but no, it couldn’t be, she couldn’t be—

“Sorry, am I even allowed in here?”

It’s _her_. 

The woman he’s seen once who has haunted both his sleeping and waking thoughts is _here,_ in his greenhouse, and she looks exactly how he remembers, and he feels as though he can’t possibly be awake. He must be dreaming, because how else would she—

“Granny gave me your address, I hope that’s okay?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s… she’s… a busybody.” He says lamely, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck in what he’s been told is a nervous gesture.

“Is it okay that I’m here?”

 _Yes!_ “I usually don’t get visitors, but it’s all right.”

“I asked Granny for your information because I’m having a get together in a few weeks at my new apartment and I wanted some centerpieces. She told me you’re the best guy in town.”

He blushes; he actually _blushes_ and has to fight the urge to curse at himself out loud because this is _unbelievable_. “I’d be happy to help you,” he tells her instead, pleased with how steady his voice is. “What kind of arrangements were you thinking about?”

They spend the next hour strolling through the greenhouse, him telling her all kinds of useless information about petal designs and blooming habits and before long, they’ve got a rough sketch done for the centerpieces for her dining room table. He realizes that he hasn’t smiled this much in a very long time, and he’s still having trouble grasping that she’s actually here.

“Thank you so much for your help. I have parents who desperately want to believe I’m some sophisticated New Yorker… maybe the flowers will be enough to fool them.”

She grins at him like they’re sharing a secret and he can’t help but smile back at her, feeling a warmth starting to grow in his chest at the sight of her sparkling eyes and smiling mouth.

She really is the loveliest person he’s ever seen, and he hopes it’s not too obvious that he can’t quite take his eyes off of her.

//// 

Her name is Emma Swan, and she comes by the greenhouse three more times in the next two weeks, all for “consults”, even though he’s never done such a thing in his career and is hardly going to start now, but hell, if she wants to come by and look at flowers with him, he’s not going to be an idiot and turn her down.

Every time he sees her, he feels the emptiness in his heart start to shrink and he thinks he is dangerously close to falling for her. It’s terrifying for multiple reasons, the main one being that he barely knows her. He doesn’t know anything about her other than that she lives in the city and has parents who are more like close friends than parents. (Something about having had her very young, but her hair was very distractingly close to him during that particular story, so the details are lost to him)

What he does know, however, is that he likes the way his name sounds when it comes out of her mouth, (it has fueled more than one fantasy since they’ve met) he likes the way that she always smells like lavender and vanilla, and that she’s always seen with a coffee in her hands (a mocha from the Starbucks down the street from her apartment).

He likes even more that she’s started to stand closer to him, that their hands brush together every now and then, and that she’s started to look at him in this particular way that makes him want to throw all caution to the wind and kiss her right there in the greenhouse, right there where he spends his days working, just so he’ll always have that memory. 

//////

 He delivers the flowers to her apartment, not to Granny’s, and he feels unspeakably nervous when she invites him inside, fluttering around nervously, picking up magazines from the coffee table and offering him every drink she can think of.  It makes him smile to think that for whatever reason, she’s as nervous as he is, and he feels a glimmer of hope bloom inside of him when he notices her eyeing him from the kitchen as she gets them both a bottle of water.

 He starts to prepare the arrangements on her kitchen counter (because, as he explained to her, _it’s more personal to do the arrangements the day of the event, Swan. You can’t fake perfection_ …) and he has absolutely zero objections when she stands close to him to watch him work. He concentrates on the flowers in his hand, envisioning the drawing they worked on together as he moves the stems this way and that, until they’re all standing just so.

 When he steps back to get a better look, she’s staring at him, and when he opens his mouth to ask if she’s okay, she practically launches herself at him, lips crashing into his with such force that she has him backing up a step, his arm automatically going around her waist so they don’t both fall to the floor.

 He recovers quickly, kissing her back with a fervor that he didn’t realize he felt, not to this degree, and when they break apart, they are both breathless, nearly panting, and his heart feels as though it is going to beat right out of his chest.

“Sorry, I just… I’ve wanted to do that for _weeks_ , and I don’t even really _need_ these flowers. I mean, yes, my parents _are_ coming to visit and I’m sure they’ll like them, but I tried to just get your number from Granny, but she wouldn’t give it unless I ordered something, and—“

He cuts her off the easiest way he knows how, his lips covering hers so quickly she barely has time to take a breath before she’s returning his embrace, her arms sliding around his neck as one of his hand works its way into her hair. He tries to control himself, he really does, but when he realizes that this entire thing was because _she likes him too_ , he really can’t be held responsible for what happens next. 

///// 

The next morning he has to sneak out the fire escape when her parents arrive three hours ahead of schedule, but it’s all worth it when he glances down at his hand and sees her phone number scrawled on it in her messy handwriting.

He doesn’t stop smiling the entire way back to his house, the little cottage feeling much less dark and empty.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this fic, you can read more of my AUs on my Tumblr while I try to get them organized and imported here! I am also always accepting prompts, both for AU fics and for canon fics! [Send me prompts here!](http://dreamingundone.tumblr.com)


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